


Forged in Pain and Tempered in Blood

by nightmarethoughts



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Fighting, Mechanic!Pete, Not really though, Robot, battles, evil government, robo au, slight alternate dystopia, that's all I'm going to say about that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-27
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-08-18 05:59:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8151500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightmarethoughts/pseuds/nightmarethoughts
Summary: Everyone has a point in their life when it changes completely, for better or for worse. There is no avoiding it when it happens and all that can be sure is that life will never be what it was again. Pete is a robotics mechanic working for the an experimental scientific branch of the government, and Patrick is living his life day to day, drinking coffee and reading books all alone, yet somehow this turning point in their life happens on the same day...And now the only thing they know for certain is that their lives will never be the same.





	1. All lives have a turning point and today it happens

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to Ian, who came up with this au in the first place! Keep up the good work! You can check out his tumblr (where all his amazing FOB art and au's go) here http://patreek.tumblr.com

The sun had managed to break free of its prison cell of clouds and haze, its rays reaching every ally and streetway and illuminating the sins of those who hide in that darkness. The man stumbling from a wild night of a “business trip” was momentarily blinded by the light reflecting off of his wedding band. The addicts that lay slumped against an alley wall stirred briefly, the sunlight managing to break through the clouded haze of their mind. The woman pulling her neckline down a little lower and tempting passersby with propositions, paused and was grateful for the warmth.   
And a single man, working his way through the mindless and endless current of people stops when the sunlight hits him. He stops and casts his eyes towards the heavens, and smiles. His smile itself is as bright as the sun, casting its own rays in the form of dimples and smile lines at this eyes, as he smiles at this one simple joy. If any of those rushing past him in their hurry to get from one meaningless place to the next had just paused and given him a glance, just caught a glimpse of his smile, then their day would have been just that much better because if someone that pure was smiling then the world surely couldn't be that bad.   
He smiled up at the sun, letting its light cascade over him and brighten his thoughts. He turned back into the faceless crowd, but couldn’t be hidden with that smile still there. His eyes scanned the large neon signs on every corner, searching for the one familiar one. There. He pushed open the double doors, the familiar ringing of the welcome bell soothing his thoughts. Inhaling deeply, the familiar scent of ground coffee was relaxing and he let out a small sigh. He entered the line, which was long, as per usual. The people in line were all occupied, texting or calling or such, but he was content to just watch, the murmur of conversation was enough to act as background music. Eventually the line in front of him shrunk away, until he was right up against the counter.   
“Hello sir, what can I get for you today?” the young barista asked, obviously quite exhausted. His shoulders tensed and unconsciously shrunk down, while he nervously adjusted his hat. He managed to relay his order with no stuttering, which caused a small swell of pride to bloom in his chest, even if momentarily. He plunged his hands deep into his pockets, fingers nervously brushing over the familiar worn leather.   
“That’ll be $5.75 sir,” the barista said and he immediately thrust his credit card at her, sure that the people behind him were frustrated that he was taking too long. She returned with the cup and handed him back the card and the coffee.   
“Have a nice day sir.” she said.  
“T-thank you. You too.” he replied, before shooting her a nervous smile. A smile traced her lips at the comment, it was the first thanks and smile she had gotten since her shift started. He turned around and immediately collided with someone. His limbs crumpled against the person and by some other worldly miracle, his coffee managed not to go flying all over the place. Heat flooded to his face while small tremors started to spasm through him.  
“O-oh oh gosh, i’m s-so sorry s-sir!” He squeaked, pushing himself away from the wall of a man. The man didn’t say anything, just stared coldly down at the significantly smaller man, directly in the eyes. Normally Patrick couldn’t even force himself to make eye contact with anyone, but this man that was practically glaring at him had him frozen in place. He felt like a rabbit, petrified in terror and unable to do anything about the impending doom that was surely coming his way. It didn't help the fact that the man had an almost predatory fire in his eyes, he looked like the definition of danger.   
Patrick nearly let out a whimper and hurried away, clutching his coffee and feeling the man staring bullet holes into his back. It was a relief to leave the coffee shop that suddenly felt less comforting and more suffocating, like the man was taking up more room than he should have. He shivered, not from the chill, and pulled his hat lower against his head. Patrick inhaled deeply, then exhaled and felt slightly better. He gave himself a small shake, not unlike a dog, and tried to remove the thoughts of that man from his mind.   
He lifted the coffee cup up to his lips and sipped it, letting out a soft sigh when it hit his tongue. To be honest the coffee wasn't really that good and was overpriced, but the shop was familiar and that was good enough for him. He was taking his time in strolling down the street, no destination in mind. A flash of green, practically glowing and vibrant in the sunlight, catches his eye. It had been so long since he had visited the park...he gave a small shrug and headed over to it. It was so rare that it was sunny and he had been given a day off of work, he should enjoy this small day of happiness. He stepped onto the small path that wound its way into the park, the crunching the gravel beneath his feet. He headed down the pathway, stepping off the path to go to the top of a small hill right nearby, and settled down on the grass.   
He took thoughtful sips of coffee (if sipping could be classified as thoughtful) and took in his surroundings. A playground lay just at the bottom of the hill, the playful yells carrying all the way up to where Patrick sat. A small smile tugged at his lips at the joyful sound. Nostalgia flooded his mind, and suddenly childhood memories came rushing back. Collapsing on the ground after a long hard game of tag, running up and down the jungle gym over and over as if it was a new place every time, and having epic adventures with kids you just met but had just become your best friend. Another shriek of laughter broke Patrick out of his reverie, causing him to give his head a little shake and blink.  
Reaching into the messenger bag slung across him, he pulled out a copy of The Fellowship of the Ring. His favorite book was actually the Zhuangzi, but he decided to try out something different. Books always fascinated him, they were their own little worlds contained and bound between pieces of paper. He stroked the pages, letting them tumble through his fingers absentmindedly. Finally he opened up to the front page and started reading, relaxing in the cool breeze and warm sunshine. Soon enough he was thoroughly gone from this world and lost in a world of fantasy and adventure. Subconsciously his heart ached for this world. His own life was so absolutely mundane and ordinary that he longed for something, anything to change him out of the monotonous routine that was his life. But he tried to forget that and just get absorbed in the book. His lips moved, forming the words but never uttering them as he read and read and read.   
Suddenly, “Who you gonna call?!” sounded and Patrick jumped at the sudden noise, book going flying. His heart was racing a thousands meters a minute and he had took a couple of deep breaths after just realising it was his phone. He glanced at the caller ID, a number he didn’t recognise. He let out a small laugh under his breath. He didn’t answer the phone for anyone, much less a stranger. A small sigh escaped his lips and he glanced over the horizon. The sun had definitely changed positions and his coffee cup lay empty and blown over in the wind. Patrick decided he didn’t want to waste his whole day so with a huff he got up and gathered his things.   
He glanced back down at the playground and locked eyes with a woman who has sitting on a bench near the swings. She smiled, but it seemed cold and distant, and gave him a curt nod. Patrick felt chills run down his spine and felt his chest constrict just a little. He quickly looked away, down at his hands, before steeling himself. After storing his book back into his bag and putting the cup into a nearby trash can, he headed back down the street. He honestly had no idea where he was going, and allowed the current of people to sweep him where ever.  
The flashing old-timey lights of a theatre assumed his attention and his gaze was brought to the illuminated sign. The new Ghostbusters had come out, he’d nearly forgotten! Patrick mentally face-palmed and there was no question about it, he was going to go and see it. Slipping out of the crowd and into the theatre lobby, he headed over and bought a ticket with relatively little stuttering, although his posture had shrunk quite a bit. After buying some popcorn (of course popcorn was bought, no sane person goes to a movie and doesn’t get popcorn) he settles into the velvety seats. The movie hadn’t started yet so he pulled out his phone and was absentmindedly scrolling through various social media accounts.  
To be perfectly honest, he didn’t know why he even had most of them, it wasn’t as if he posted to anything. And mostly they just served as a sad testament to his lack of friends. The lights dimmed and he was glad for the distraction and soon enough his attention was captured. It had to come to an end, as all things do, and far too soon he had to leave the movie theatre. He was so wrapped up in his thoughts about the amazing film he had just witnessed that he didn’t even realise it was night when he stepped outside. It was only when he was blinded by a streetlight that he was knocked out of his own head and back into reality.   
Glancing around he saw a couple on a bench underneath some “Coming Soon” posters, a man smoking and two teenage boys talking, hands clasped tightly. He felt a bit uncomfortable about the couple on the bench, feeling as though they were staring holes into his back. Patrick shook his head and headed over to the street to hail a taxi. What was wrong with him? Why did he always think these strangers were out to get him? He just needed to let it go and realise his anxieties were unfounded, just as his therapist used to tell him. He clambered into the cab, shuddering slightly at the reek of smoke that filled his sinuses the instant he stuck his head in.   
“Where’r ya of’ta?” said the cab driver, practically yelling. Patrick relayed his street, a bout of coughing following after. The driver threw his cigarette out the window, a trail of smoke going past Patrick’s window as it flew by him. The driver then proceeded to pull out a new cigarette out, light it, and start smoking, all while driving the cab at certainly illegal speeds. The blood drained out of his face and his fingers were curled so tightly around the seat that they were tearing the worn fabric. A look of sheer terror was plastered on his face and his heart had leapt up to his throat, beating at the same speed that the car was going. The cab screeched to a halt, leaving tire marks on the road and causing Patrick to fly forward, slamming his face into the back of the passenger seat.  
“Pay up” came the only reply and Patrick was more than willing to shove money towards the man and stumble out of that death taxi. He rubbed at his sore face, more than likely a bruise would form the next morning. He scanned the street around, it being surprisingly empty except for one figure standing ominously under the streetlamp. The person, almost as if they sensed Patrick’s gaze, suddenly looked up and locked eyes with him. That same feel of terror and panic flared up again. He stood froze by the man’s steely cold gaze before the man gave a smirk, his teeth practically glowing in the light.   
Patrick looked away quickly and headed into the apartment building as fast s he could without looking like he was running. He’d never made eye contact with this many people in one day before, it must be too much. He silently cursed himself. Why was he acting so panicked? These people had surely no ill will against him, it was just stupid feelings of anxiety that were making him paranoid. He dragged his feet up the stairs and unlocked his apartment. He looked around, making sure everything was in its place. He was lucky enough to have a modest studio apartment, not to live in some of the poorer or shadier complexes that were all over Chicago, but by no means would anyone call him wealthy. He threw his bag onto the couch as he passed by, and headed over to the kitchen area. It took him no time at all to throw some ramen in a pot of boiling water and settle down at the table with the noodles. They were too hot to eat right away so he threw a couple of ice cubes into the bowl and waited.  
Patrick made the fatal mistake of being alone with his thoughts, and his mind drifted to unwanted places. A crushing loneliness descended upon him and his chest began to constrict. He really had almost no friends, none that really could even visit or talk anymore. Sure there were a few people at work he made small talk with and the employees at the stores he frequented who knew him by name, but really would they be considered friends? If he ever decided to throw a party would they even show up? What if he was in a dire situation and needed help? None of them were close enough to him to be considered part of his life. He really was mostly alone. Heck, he didn’t even have a pet or anything, much less a significant other. Sure he had a few old friends who were female, but he was positive they would turn them down if he asked them out. Not that they were even available anyhow, and besides, Patrick didn’t feel that way about any of them. For some reason in his heart, he was still holding out for that chance, fairytale meeting in which he would meet the girl of his dreams and they would slowly fall in love. Now the realisation that that would never happen hit him with the force of a freighter. He couldn’t talk to people and all of his old friends had grown out of him and he could only make some more if he could freaking talk to other people like a normal human being but he couldn’t and so he was going to die alone, only known as that one person who briefly existed in some lives but died just a waste of space and oxygen. He was alone. He dug his fingers into his thighs, muscles painfully tense. The loneliness had an iron grip around his throat, cutting off his breath and choking the life out of him. Darkness was bleeding into his mind and tears were threatening to cascade down his face. Alone, alone, alone, he was so alone.   
Except, then he wasn’t. Moving figure in front of him suddenly threw out all the crushing loneliness and it was replaced by sheer panic. There were people in his house and...there were people in his house. He jumped up, the chair falling to the ground with a deafening clatter.   
“W-wh-wh-wh-o a-aa-are y-y-” Patrick started to stutter, before arms suddenly seized him from behind. His arms were pressed painfully to his chest and there were arms across his shoulders and around his abdomen and he couldn’t move, he was being lifted off the ground. Desperately he started struggling, feet flailing around in the air for purchase that wasn’t there. Patrick opened his mouth to scream but a rough hand clamped over his mouth, silencing any noise that could have been made. A sharp pain flared up in his neck, feeling horrifyingly like a needle. The tears that had been threatening to spill were flowing down his face rapidly and silently. Slowly but suddenly at the same time his mind slowly faded into black and last thing he could feel were the arms keeping him from freedom. 

…

He was tired. Not cute-sweatshirts-and-little-yawns sleepy. No. He was five-cups-of-coffee-and-murder tired. Pete clutched his coffee like a weapon and flung the doors open, hitting the wall with a bang. He strode into the lab, causing the man hunched over the counter to jump back.   
“Hey Pete,” said Kenneth with a sigh, turning back to the papers on his desk. Pete just grunted in reply, too exhausted to form words. He threw his head back and took a long draught of the coffee, slamming the cup down on the counter far more dramatically than what was called for. A massive yawn escaped past his lips while Pete laid his head down onto the counter.   
“Remember you need to finish your project today.” Kenneth called from his corner.   
Pete let out a groan, “Ugh, don’t remind me.” Kenneth just shrugged and turned back to his formulas, scrawling away at the paper. With a long-suffering sigh, Pete stood up and grabbed his tool box. He settled onto his rolling stool and pulled down the screen from where it lay idle above his head. It powered on, washing over his form in bright blue lights. The blueprints and logistics lit up the screen and pete grabbed his stylus.   
“Ken, did you finish those equations?” he asked over his shoulder.   
Kenneth gave a distracted wave, not looking up from his work, “Yeah, should be on your station.”   
Pete grabbed the papers and scanned them quickly, brow furrowing. “Ah jeez, it looks like that won’t work out,” he muttered, circling a part on the blueprint and scribbling it out. “How about we replace that then with…” he trailed off, drawing in the replacement sketch. “There!” he exclaimed, “That should work!” He tucked the stylus behind his ear and pushed the screen back, wheeling the forward until he was up against the counter. He pulled his latest project up and grabbed some tools out of his bag. He began tinkering away at it, occasionally grabbing tools out of his bag.   
“Hey Ken, I’m gonna have to do a bit of welding here.” he called, grabbing the goggles from a drawer.   
“Oh, thanks for telling me.” Ken replied, “I’ll just go grab something from the break room I guess.” And with that he strode back out of the lab.   
Pete whipped out the welding torch, again much more dramatically than was needed, and turned it on. Blue flames flew from the end and Pete allowed himself a grin before turning to the machine. Sparks began to fly and as he began the work with an expert hand. It only was about twenty minutes before he was done and all the welding materials were back in their places.   
He drug the back of the palm across his forehead, scattering sweat all over the station. He tugged on his shirt a little, trying to get some airflow going but only succeeded in causing his nose to wrinkle up at the scent of gasoline and smoke that drifted out of his clothes. The laundry would be a pain in the ass that week to do.   
Kenneth poked his head in and Pete said, “You’re all good.” Ken gave a sigh of relief and headed back over to his counter, but not before putting a muffin on Pete’s station.   
“There.” Ken said, before turning back to his papers.   
“Thanks man!” Pete exclaimed, “Also I finished finally.”   
“Finally.” Ken said, and the eye roll that accompanied was audible in his voice.   
“Hey! I’ll have you know...yeah you're right. I should’ve been finished a long time ago. But what can I say, I can’t help my procrastination.”   
Kenneth snorted at that, “Procrastination? Most of the time you were just mooning about that girl to me.”   
“Shut up.” Pete grumbled and turned back to his project. He was just about to turn it on when something caught his eye. He frowned slightly and tugged out the chip. He pushed off the station and rolled over to his ‘small work’ table, placing the microchip under a magnifying glass. The frown grew deeper on his face and his mouth scrunched up. Something was screwed up with the microchip. He grabbed his watchmakers tools and began making fixing it, his tongue poking out the side of his mouth in concentration. Finally he gave a huff and shoved himself back over to his station. After carefully placing the microchip in, he was about to turn it on when it hits him.  
That alteration on the chip...it would have changed the voltage on the device. It was an emp, designed to emanate over a massive range and take out any technology. But with the voltage screwed up like that, the pulse would overload any tech and make any electricity inside go haywire, which could be a danger to anyone near the tech. They could be fatally shocked and it could result in a massive death count. He must have screwed up the chip when working on it before, no doubt from being tired and didn't even realize it. Pete let out a his breath, good thing he’d caught that before turning in the project, it could've been disastrous. He needed a break, goodness.  
He got up from his school with a groan and stretched. After glancing at the clock and realizing he’d been working for nearly four hours already, he headed over and grabbed the muffin off of the counter. He had just taken a thoughtful bite into it, when the door to the lab flew open, hitting the wall with a bang. A blur of too familiar brown hair brushed right past him and straight over to Kenneth's work station.   
“Kenneth!” Came the yell, followed directly after with hand slammed down on the counter. Kenneth flinched and jump back, fear evident in his eyes. “Listen here you screw up! You were the top of your class at California Polytechnic and yet all you can do is do things wrong!” Shane roared, “You see this? Yeah remember this?” He brandished a piece of paper in Kenneth’s face, “You screwed up this equation! You nearly cost us months of work and research!”   
Ken was visibly shaking now, and biting his lip hard enough to draw blood, “w-w-well I-I t-th-think I j-just m-mis-mistook t-that two f-for a t-t-th-three.” He stuttered.   
Shane shoved all the papers off of his desk, trashing all the carefully organized piles,“Shut up! And quit that stupid stuttering you failure! I’ve told you to stop stuttering, you freak! Today was the worst day for you to screw up! And I bet you did that on purpose! You were just trying to make me look bad because you’are just a jealous petty failure who’s trying to make themselves feel better about being retarded! So just shut up and stop fucking up you worthless waste of oxygen!” Kenneth was trembling violently and flinching with every yelled word, silent tears streaming down his face.   
Anger flared up in Pete. He’d been done with Shane Morris for a while now, but couldn't do much because he was their supervising manager. But this was taking it too far. “How about you just shut up and leave him alone?” Pete growled, taking a menacing step towards Shane.  
“Why don’t you make me?” Shane challenged back.   
“I might just!”   
Shane let out a baker of humorless laughter, “you think you could beat me Wentz? Look at how girly you are, you weak emo piece of-”   
“That's it!” Pete roared, jumping straight for Shane. His fist smashed satisfyingly into Shane’s nose and Shane stumbled backwards, clutching at his face while blood cascaded down it. Shane took a wild swing at Pete and he easily dodged, sending a hard kick right where it hurt. Shane let out a strangled yelp and collapsed onto the floor, clutching pitifully in between his legs.   
“You're fired Wentz!” Shane screeched in a comically high voice.  
“You can’t fire me because I quit!” Pete thunders back and grabs his tool bag off of his work station. He pauses for a moment, pulling Ken into a hug.  
“I’m sorry Ken, you're so smart and don’t deserve to be treated like this. You quit and go find a better job where they appreciate you, okay? Don’t let this dead end government job take your genius away from the world.”   
Kenneth nodded and squeezed Pete before letting him go. “T-thank y-you P-Pete.” He says with a genuine smile.   
Pete grins back and heads out the door, never looking back once.


	2. Another year gone by, another year lost to the dust

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP. Petes eyes fly wide open, the left one slightly twitching in rhythm with the incessant beeping. His heart was pounding out of its ribs. This was it, today was the day he was going to murder that infernal alarm clock. His arm shot out like a viper, snapping onto the clock, throwing the thing against the wall. It broke apart with a crash and a pitiful squeak. Pete let out a groan, grinding the heels of his hands into his eyes and running his fingers through his disheveled hair. That was definitely going to leave a mark on his wall and his landlord would have a fit. Whatever, that was a problem for future Pete. And right now, present Pete just wanted to sleep. So he pulled the blankets up to his chin and turned right over, falling fast asleep. 

…

“922 activate.”  
His eyes flew open and he stood at ready position instantly. His fists were kept clenched at his side, all muscles tensed and posture rigid. His eyes stared straight forward, never shifting and hardly blinking. His eyes were unnerving, they held no spark of life or emotion in them. He looked like a solider. He was a soldier. The soldier.  
“He listens to commands well.”  
“Yes, he’s got no will of his own, just to carry out orders.”  
“And how long did that take?”  
“A bit longer than expected. He broke fairly easily, we found he could be manipulated psychologically, but after that happened he sort of escaped into himself. It took a while for them to break that part of him as well.”  
“Well I suppose that all that matter now is that he is ready.”  
“For the test mission?”  
“What else?”  
“I suppose you're right. Allow me to give you a small demonstration.”  
A terrified looking man in an orange jumpsuit was thrown into the white room, hitting the ground with a thud and going skidding. He scrambled to his feet, looking around the room wildly with his chest heaving. His eyes landed on the form standing stock still in the center of the room. Instantly the disheveled man pressed his back against the wall, eyes wild with the looked of a cornered wild beast.  
Suddenly a loudspeaker in the corner crackled to life, “922, cripple but do not kill target A.” The man who had been standing frozen just moments before slipped fluidly into action, turning directly towards the man in the orange jumpsuit. The target’s eyes widened and he started to run, but the other man broke into a dead sprint at him. With lightning quick hands, the soldiers hand shot out, hitting him directly beneath the jaw. Target A collapsed to the floor in a heap, limbs tangled and useless. The soldier ripped one of the sleeves off of the other man’s jumpsuit, rolling it and shoving it roughly into the target’s mouth. He picked up the target’s left leg, ripping open the jumpsuit leg and exposing his lower leg. The soldier pulled a knife from the belt strapped across his body, before resting it onto the target’s leg for a brief moment. The target’s eyes went wide and tears began rapidly streaming down his face. Target A seemed to be trying to beg, please for this to stop, but nothing but muffled sounds came from the gag. Then without further ado, 922 swung the knife, slicing cleanly through the target’s Achilles' tendon. The target’s muffled screams sounded, his face contorting in pain. Within seconds the other pants leg had been torn, and the soldier was preparing the knife again. And with a squelching noise, his other tendon was sliced. The man tried screaming again, but to no avail, thanks to the gag.  
922 tucked the knife back into its sheath before turning back to the target. The target's face paled and he seemed to be resorting back to begging again. The soldier examined him for a moment before bringing his leg up and brought it crashing down with extreme force. The target's knee shattered with a sickening crack and he screamed uselessly. He tensed his muscles, cocking his leg up and lashed out, leaving the other knee broken. The target seemed to be going into shock, tears still pouring from his unseeing eyes. 922 gingerly grasped the target's wrist, feeling around for a moment. The target's veins pulsed under his wrists and for a moment, the soldier had some sort of recognition flare up inside him before it gets extinguished. He turned his steely gaze onto the man, gripping his wrist tighter now and with a violent twist, the wrist was snapped. He threw that arm down, grabbing the other one, and with ease snapped the other as well. The target barely flinched, his eyes hollow.  
922 dropped the other arm unceremoniously and stood back in his original position, as if the target had never been there at all. Target A lay twitching, hands and legs splayed at unnatural angles like a twisted doll, and a puddle of blood slowly staining the white floor beneath him. He appeared dead, eyes unseeing and unmoving, but only the slightest movement of his chest revealed that somehow the broken body was still living.  
“That was incredible. He acted with no remorse or hesitation and completed the job cleanly and efficiently.”  
“All as he was trained to do. Are you satisfied that he is ready for missions yet?”  
“One more thing.”  
The loudspeaker crackled to life again, a different voice coming this time. “922, eliminate Target A.”  
The soldier turned towards the broken target, raising his left arm. A piercing high pitched noise echoed through the room, a blue glow starting to emanate from his arm. Then with a sonic boom, Target A’s head was completely gone, the only thing left was a black scorch mark marring the white floor.  
“He’s ready.”  
“Perfect. 922, power down.”

…

The credits began rolling across the screen, the briefs flashes of white words illuminating the form sprawled across the couch. Arms were askew, draped over his forehead and hanging over the side of the couch, his mouth was slightly agape, soft snuffles emerging from him occasionally. He gave a sigh in his sleep, rolling over to his side. Except there was no more couch to roll onto. With a heavy thump he landed on the ground, instantly shocked awake.  
“What the fu…” he yelped, trailing off into a groan of pain. He gingerly tried to prop himself up, but let out a small whine, grabbing at his ribs for a moment before collapsing back down with an over exaggerated huff. He lay there for a few moments, draping his arm over his eyes and sighing. He finally pulled himself up to his feet, a massive yawn escaping out of his mouth and running his fingers through his already disheveled hair. His feet dragged the entire way over to the kitchen, where he grabbed some orange juice, drinking straight from the carton. He trudged over to the table, collapsing heavily onto a chair, and picking up his phone. The white numbers glowing blind Pete momentarily and it takes another moment for his eyes to come into focus.  
His eyes widen and he whispers, “Shit.” before leaping up from the chair, all sleep thrust from his body and replaced with fervent panic. As he runs past the couch, hands dart out to clutch the black dress shirt which had been abandoned there who knows how long ago. The loose t-shirt he’s currently wearing in practically ripped off and he throws the button up over his shoulders and sprints towards his bedroom. He tears off his sweatpants, landing in a ball in the corner of the room, surely to be forgotten. A few moments later he comes bursting out of the closet, a pair of black slacks and silver vest thrown over his shoulder, red tie draped around his neck and his jaw clamped down on a clean pair of socks. He curses loudly as he sprints out the door, desperately pulling the slacks up his legs while trying not to trip. He makes it to the car with little injury by some miracle and with a loud squeal of tires, he skids out of the parking lot.  
All safety is thrown to the wind as he goes clearly speeding down the street, and makes it worse by bracing his knees against the wheel. His hands worked furiously, trying to button it up but fumbling in his haste. By now he is swearing colorfully enough to be a picasso. The pressure on the gas pedal only grew and Pete begged to whatever higher power lay above that he didn’t get pulled over for speeding and definitely not for driving with his knees. Honks sounded and echoed as he sped through traffic, probably violating every known traffic laws. He was just finishing up as a he made a sharp skid into the parking lot, and he practically flung himself out of the car, breaking into a dead sprint towards the ornate double doors.  
They were flung open wide, the young man reaching to open them barely leaping away in time to avoid being hit. Pete ran in legs pumping fast and tried to slow himself down, but to no avail. The instant his black high-top clad feet hit the tile they went skidding and he started flailing and waving around to avoid falling over. Suddenly he slammed quite painfully into the wooden podium, the sharp corner jabbing right into his ribs. Pete stumbled backwards, clutching at his chest and swearing. He glanced up at the man sat behind the stand who was giving him a look of ultimate distaste and disdain. It almost felt as if the man was glaring holes into Pete. His first reaction was to curl his lip into a snarl, but he realised this man would be working for him, so he managed a sheepish smile.  
“I’m here to meet my girlfriend,” he says.  
The man gave him another condescending look, one that made Pete want to grab him by his stupid suit collar and hold him in the air, before saying, “Ah yes, your “girlfriend.” let me just check for a moment…” the man over exaggeratingly ran his finger down the list before turning back to Pete. “Well, it doesn’t seem as though we have anyone under the name “my girlfriend” here.” This time Pete did curl his lip up and glared daggers at the man.  
“Her name is Ashlee. Ashlee Simpson.” he growled. The man glanced down at the list yet again and seemed surprised that the name was actually on there.  
“Hayley here will escort you to your table. Have a pleasant dinner, sir.” The man said, venom dripping from the last word. Pete only made a face in response and followed. The girl in front of him had shockingly bright hair that somehow contrasted well with the dress shirt and slacks she was wearing. The restaurant was filled with the murmur of many conversations, and the quiet sound of jazz drifted through the low-lit restaurant. Pete shifted from one leg to the other, trying to minimise the amount of clothes touching his skin. He hated wearing dress clothes, they were always so uncomfortable and it made him feel on edge and anxious.  
“Here you are sir,” she says, gesturing to the table. He goes to head towards but stops when he feels a hand on his shoulder. Turning back, he sees Hayley staring intently into his eyes and gesturing around her neck. He gazes at her, confused for a moment, before absentmindedly reaching at his own neck and realizing the tie was still hanging loosely there. His eyes widened and he tried to tie it quickly, but his fingers kept slipping. Hayley rolled her eyes and reached up, tying it quickly and shoving him towards the table. He stumbled forward but managed to slide into the booth.  
“Hey babe.” he said, leaning forward and kissing her.  
“You’re late Pete.” she says with a small frown, sipping water out of a glass.  
“Hey look I know, I was just caught up in work, you know how I can get lost in the blueprints.” he says, trying to look authentic and hoping she couldn’t see through the blatant lie. She pursued her lips but didn’t say anything.  
After a few moments of tense silence Pete spoke up again, “Baby you look beautiful.” She really did. Ashlee was wearing a tight fitting grey dress, a sleeveless one that showed off her form and accented with a black belt around her waist.  
She gave a small tight-lipped smile at that, “You looks nice too.”  
Hayley slid up right then, apparently deciding now was the right time and piped up, “Hello there, I’m Hayley and I’m going to be your server tonight. Can I start you off with any drinks?”  
Pete quickly scanned the menu and said, “How about some wine? I was thinking-”  
Suddenly Ashlee cut him off and said, “No wine, I want you to stay sober. Some lemon water will be fine for us both.” Hayley quickly wrote it down, but not before cocking an eyebrow in confusion at Pete.  
He looked equally as confused so she gave a small shrug and said, “I’ll be back with those soon.” before hurrying off. The heavy silence permeated the air again, and the tension grew thick.  
Finally Pete decided he’d had enough, “So are you going to explain what that back there was or…”  
And then she said the words that are all men’s worst nightmare, “I think we need to talk about our relationship.” Pete’s face paled as the blood quickly drained out of it. Suddenly the air seemed thick, almost too thick to force into his lungs and his breathing grew shallow. His throat dried and grew uncomfortably scratchy.  
“W-what do you want to talk about?” he managed out.  
She gave a heavy sigh and started talking, “Well Pete, it’s just that we’ve been interacting less and less. This is our first date in a month and it's been a week since we’ve talked. And to be honest I’m pretty sure you would have forgotten all about today date if i hadn’t put that reminder into your phone.”  
“Well things have been a bit hectic over at work you know. There’s a big deadline coming and some of the parts are delayed and the company could lose a lot of money if we don’t finish and-”  
“No Pete, I don’t know! You didn’t tell me any of this. Why don’t you talk to me anymore?”  
“I was going to tell you all about it! Tonight in fact, I figured we could just have a nice night talking about just everything.”  
“Ever since you quit your job at the government, what was it, a year ago? You just grew more and more distant and sometimes I feel like I’m putting in more effort into this relationship!”  
Pete’s face grew hard at that, “Don’t you dare say that! What about when you went on that trip to Europe? I stayed up to all hours of the night so we could skype and I almost got fired that week because I was so tired! I babysat your younger cousin that you promised you would so you could visit your college friend who came to town! I sat and listened to you gossip about other girls all day! I even sat through horror movies with you because someone on instagram said they were ‘so good!’ So don’t you dare say that you’re the only one putting effort into this relationship!”  
“We’ve been dating for three years now Pete. This is different than high school. We both had crushes on each other but maybe it was only that, and maybe it's finally run out.”  
Pete’s heart dropped to his feet and it was replaced with a heaving sinking feeling, “Are you...breaking up with me?” he whispers, sounding almost broken.  
Her face contorts a little, “No, I-I, ...I don’t know Pete.” Ashlee drops her head and clutches at her face, “I just don’t know anymore.”  
He reaches over the table and rests a hand on her arm, “It’s okay, we’ll figure this out.”  
Her hair is a bit disheveled now after having her hands run through it and she glances up at him, “I-...I think there is only one way to figure this out Pete.” Her voice is so heavy and resigned Pete’s heart starts racing as his mind begins frantically thinking of what she could mean.  
“We need to figure all this out Pete, and I mean really. Not just temporary solutions. We need to decide if this is real or not. Has our entire relationship been based off of infatuation? If it is then it's going to run out, if it already hasn’t. And then our whole relationship will fall apart and I think we should...end it before that happens. If we are really in love, well, then I think we need to make our love permanent.”  
Pete’s breath hitched in his throat as his thoughts began frantically reeling. Ashlee wither wanted to break up...or marry him? He was terrified and didn’t know what to think. Everything was changing so rapidly and he didn’t know what to do and...Pete’s fingernails dug into his leg, gripping whatever they could tightly. He had no idea what to do and his limbs were simply frozen, stuck in a state of terror and confusion coursing through his veins. The silence was suffocating, drawing the breath and life out of both of them, and the tension was so thick it could nearly be seen.  
“S-so I g-guess that’s it then, Pete. It really was infatuation after all.” she said, her voice thick with emotion as she took his silence as an answer, and got up from the table. Pete screamed at his body to move, and for once it obeyed him. He sprang up, knocking the table and sending the carefully placed dishes flying with a loud clatter, hushing the conversations around them.  
“Ashlee!” he cried, grabbing her wrist. She turned towards him and he could see the tears clearly starting to form in her eyes.  
“What Pete?! What?!” she choked out.  
He froze again, “Ashlee I...I-I…” Suddenly an inferno blazed up in her eyes and the tears that were threatening to spill over started cascading down her face.  
“Prove it to me Pete! If you love me then prove it to me! Get down on your goddamned knee and ask me to marry you! Pete I swear if you love me then you will ask me to marry you!” She cried, wiping furiously at the trail of mascara left down her face.  
Pete’s mind was a furious whirlwind of confusion and emotions, and he had absolutely no idea what to do. “Ashlee what are you...don’t you think we should talk...I just-” he said, voice heavy with emotion.  
“NO, JUST SHUT UP PETE! YOU CLEARLY DON’T LOVE ME ANYMORE AND I SURE AS HECK STOPPED LOVING YOU A LONG TIME AGO! SO JUST SHUT UP AND DON’T TALK TO ME ANYMORE!” She screamed, the tears flowing hot and heavy down her face.  
“Ashlee no! I still love you!” Pete exclaimed, his grip still tight on her wrist.  
“Just shut up you lying bastard, it's a good thing I got together with Evan Ross earlier this year. He’s been treating me much better than you have.” Those words were like a slap to Pete’s face, they cut deeper than anything she’d said to him in her anger. They resonated in his head, echoing and bouncing around as he grew steadily more aware of the deafening pound of his rapidly pulsing heart. All the anger and confusion and fear that had been churning in a whirlpool of torment inside of him suddenly dissipated and all he could feel was a deep, terrible sadness.  
“Ashlee? You’ve been...cheating on me?” he whispered, the sound of a broken man. Silent tears pooled in his eyes and dropped silently down his cheeks.  
She got right up in his face and snarled, “Yeah, I was more than you ever deserved and now you won’t have me anymore. Goodbye Pete.” And with that she violently ripped her wrist of his his now lose grip and stormed out of sight. And there Pete was left was left, frozen in the perfect portrait of a shattered heart. 

…

The familiar neon lights glowed steadily in front of him, urging him to come inside. He shifted side to side, the leather beginning to feel rough and abrasive under his legs from being sat on for too long. His eyes were red, swollen and aching from crying, and there was trails of salt on his lips. Pete thought he knew what it meant to have a broken heart, to be mopey and sad for a few days when your high school crush gets a different date to homecoming, but this was different. It literally felt like there was a knife in his heart, it was excruciating mental and pain and somehow it was physical too. There were cruel whispering in his ear, tell him all the things that were wrong with him and why Ashlee had left him for another man. He was an awful screw up with no value to anyone and those words that testified that truth to him were crawling into his throat, making his breathing labored and constricted. He just wanted to curl up into the fetal position and give up, be reabsorbed into the earth so no one would ever remember he existed. Finally the bright lights got to him and he unbuckled his seatbelt, climbing out of the car with a heavy sigh.  
His drug his feet behind them, feeling every crack and mistake in the sidewalk. The door swung open with the cheerful tinkling of a bell, which seemed completely out of place for his mood and generally for a bar. The sounds of conversation and clinking glasses quieted momentarily the patrons turned to see who had entered. Small whispers and sounds of sympathy echoed through the small bar as the patrons took in Pete.  
“Hey, I was wondering when you would finally get out of that car and come in. And dude, you look like hell, come and have a drink.” Pete headed silently over to the bar and collapsed heavily onto the bar stool. His posture immediately collapsed in on itself, shoulders and spine sagging down with what felt like the weight of his heart. His head fell down to where his arms were interlocked on the table and buried his face in the warm comfort, blocking out the dim lighting of the bar.  
“Seriously, Pete my man, what happened to you?”  
Pete let out a loud groan and bit back tears, “A-ashlee, Joe, it was Ashlee.” he stuttered out, biting his lip to keep from crying.  
He heard Joe let out a hiss of sympathy, “Ah jeez, that’s rough man. She cut it off?”  
Joe gave him a pointed look then leaned in, “Do you want to know where to meet up with B- I mean you-know-who?”  
“No man! I just...I don’t know.”  
“Do you want to tell me about it?”  
Pete only nodded miserably. “Oh wait! I’ve always wanted to do this!” Joe exclaimed, and Pete raised his head up momentarily, giving Joe a confused look. Joe was running behind the bar, grabbing a clean glass and pulling the washcloth out of his back pocket. He leaned across the counter and started running the cloth in the glass, trying to clean it.  
“Joe, that is a clean glass…” Pete stated carefully.  
“I know! But i’ve always wanted to be that therapist bartender and the always do this so just go with it.”  
“...Okay then.”  
“So, what’s troubling you?” “Ashlee broke up with me today, after demanding that we either break up or get married.”  
“Get married? Doesn’t that seem a bit sudden?”  
“You’re telling me. Anyway after I hesitated because of what she decided to spring on me, she screamed about how terrible I was and said she’d been seeing this guy named Evan Ross about a year ago.”  
“Around the time you quit?”Pete let out a whimper and buried his face between his arms again, shoulders heaving.  
“Do you want something to drink?” Joe asked hesitantly.  
“GIve me anything. I mean literally anything. Pour everything you got into a cup or something, I don’t care. I just don’t want to remember or feel anything the rest of tonight.”  
“Are you sure that’s the best ide-”  
“Yes. Please Joe.” Joe simply shrugged and headed off, coming back a few moments later with a couple of shot glasses. “Once you finish those I’ll start you on some beer. On the house for having a lousy night.”  
Pete immediately seized one, hesitating a moment. He glanced behind him, making eye contact with whomever was on stage, which happened to a be some guy without a shirt on, showing of his musclebound body covered in tattoos who was perched behind a drum kit. The man wasn’t playing at that moment but Pete made eye contact with him and raised the glass, the man raised his own drumstick as well. And in unison, Pete threw his head back, downing the drink and the man slammed the sticks down with violent velocity, starting an epic drum solo. Pete didn’t even register any tastes of what he was drinking, he simply relished the burn in his throat. The crashing of drums was the soundtrack to which he steadily lost more and more of his thoughts to the alcohol.  
Eventually, after all the shots were through and his thoughts began to grow hazy, a mug of beer found its way into his hand. He stood up on the barstool, balancing precariously and thrust the mug into the air with a loud cheer, sloshing beer all over himself and raising a cry from the other patrons still there. Soon enough, Pete didn’t even realise the mug was filled with water anymore and was downing it with fervent effort. Eventually he was limp against the table, shoulders heaving with the massive sobs coming from his body, the tears flowing hot and heavy down his face. Pete was gasping for air in between the crying, his face looking like the definition of miserable.  
“S-she l-left me. I’m j-just so al-alone. You’re my only f-friend Joe. Everyone e-else h-hates me, and t-they have good r-reason to. I’m a t-terrible person or e-else she w-wouldn’t have l-left me f-for that o-other guy. I h-hate myself t-t-too though. I h-h-ha-hate my-myself. I hate m-myself…” He trailed off, dissolving off into sobs again, but still repeating the phrase to himself. “I hate myself...I hate myself...I hate myself…” He repeated it over and over until his voice suddenly became hard.  
“I hate myself. I hate myself! I HATE MYSELF! I FUCKING HATE MYSELF!” He yelled, jerking his head up. “I HATE THAT LYING SON OF A-A...ASHLEE! I HATE ASHLEE AND HER LITTLE BOY TOY AND I HATE THE WORLD AND I HATE EMOTIONS AND I HATE MY OWN STUPID SELF!” He screamed, tears still flowing down his face, which was now an angry crimson color. All his emotions, fury, sadness, confusion, regret were knotting up into his chest and twisting his poor heart to shreds, pumping pure fire through him. Then just as quickly as it started everything fizzled out and all the adrenaline was gone from his body, causing him to collapse back to bar again.  
“It’s okay Pete, just let it all out.” Joe said absentmindedly from where he was filling up someone's glass. Bubbles of laughter erupted out of Pete and he covered his face, as if trying to hide the massive smile plastered to his face.  
“I love you Joe. Joey. Joey boy. My Joey boey boey boi. I lllllove you. I mean, I would totally bang you right now.” more fits of laughter ensued and he would have fallen off the barstool if Joe hadn’t lunged forward and seized his wrist.  
“Joey Joey Joseph let's do it. Right now. On the bar. Come on, it’ll be fun!”  
“I think that’s enough for one night. You’re going to hate yourself tomorrow when you have the worst hangover.” Joe said gently, removing the mug from Pete’s tight grip.  
“Lolll, that’s an issue for sober Pete tomorrow,” Pete said giddily, grinning and spinning around on the barstool. Joe pinched the bridge of his nose with a long suffering sigh, he knew getting Pete this smashed was a bad idea.  
“Alright buddy, look, you need to go home and sleep okay? You live close enough that I don’t have to drive you, so just go to bed please.”  
“Alllllrrright buckko, if you say so my love. Goodnight to all, and to all a goodnight!” Pete announced cheerfully, falling off the stool and heading out the door with a couple of drunken spins. Joe just shrugged and turned back to cleaning the mess Pete had made.  
Pete was stumbling down the empty street way, singing to himself, “This is a song I made up all by my self, cause I’m a grrrrrrreat singer. Haha, I’m GRRRRRRRRRREAT like my friend tony the tiger always says. Here we goooo! She’s singing baby come *hick!*” a hiccup burst out of his mouth and he dissolved into a fit of giggles, clutching at his sides. “-home in a melody of tearsssss while the rhythm of the rain keeps time. And I remember baaaaaby come hommmmmme, baaaaby come homeeeeee, baaby coome-” suddenly he freezes.  
“I gotta pee. Real bad.” He murmurs, before unzipping his pants and going right there on the wall, oblivious to the cold air around him.  
“Where was I? Oh yeah. I’ve got troubled thoughtsssss and a self esteeeeeeem to match! Oh what a caaaaaatch-” His singing suddenly cut off as he tripped over something very real and tangible on the alleyway ground. His face goes slamming into the grungy sidewalk and amazing he begins to chuckle. That is until he props himself up and glances at what he tripped over. Then, even in his drunken state, he realises what he is looking at.  
There is the fallen form of what looks like a man, but it is very far from such. It’s limbs are skewed, eagle-spread, and the face looks almost peacefully bliss, but clearly unconscious. However the most prominent thing has to be the leg, detached at the knee which lays scattered a few feet away from the limb it’s supposed to be attached to.  
And somehow, thing that leaves Pete pressed frozen against the wall is the fact that the still form is emitting a steady, pulsing blue glow, cascading faintly against the darkness of the night. This…thing, whatever it was, was not human.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the exposition-y stuff is finally done! I can practically hear you cheering now, because the story will really be diving in.  
> So Joe's here now, that's pretty neat. More people you all know and love will be coming up soon, so that's cool.  
> Also for clarification, Pete was wearing converse because he forgot to grab shoes and those happened to be in his car.  
> I may have gotten Ashlee's character completely off, but to be honest I don't really know that much about her nor care to know so. But if you want to rant about it in the comments or whatever be my guest, freedom of speech and all.  
> Please please please if you like it do my a favor and let me know, it really makes me feel good when i get to hear from you guys or when you leave kudos, so please spare half a second to hit the kudos button or to write me a little note, it honestly is so nice  
> Beta position is still available to anyone who's alive and kicking  
> Hope you all have a lovely day! (or if you're like me and read fan fiction in the dead of night, you really should stop at this chapter and go to sleep)  
> -Mare

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so first off, Hi y'all. This is my first "real" fic so that'll be fun.  
> Also is the title too emo-y? Is the title even any good? Does the summary make sense/ is engaging? those are always my biggest worries when writing a fic, so if you feel the need to point out something or completely suggest a new one please go ahead. Also feel free to point out any mistakes, because I currently don't have a beta.  
> Also is any willing to beta for me? That'd be great  
> If you like it, please be kind enough to leave a comment and/or kudos! It really does make my day!  
> I hope you enjoy this as much as I do and are willing to stay around for the duration! Have a nice day!  
> -Mare


End file.
